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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25089472">You Gotta Lose</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAJ_13/pseuds/LadyAJ_13'>LadyAJ_13</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Endeavour (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Episode: s05e06 Icarus, Episode: s06e04 Degüello, M/M, of a fashion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:55:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>962</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25089472</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAJ_13/pseuds/LadyAJ_13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone mentions it while he’s getting coffee, only they don’t say the name - just a constable, caught in the crossfire.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ronnie Box/George Fancy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>You Gotta Lose</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/guardianoffun/gifts">guardianoffun</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For Guardianoffun; I've been reading your and iloveyoudie's lovely sweet modern!AU boxfancy stories and my brain went – but what if canon era? Canon compliant? ChARActer deaTH?</p><p>…sorry.</p><p>Also it's been a while since I saw Deguello and even longer since I saw Icarus, so apologies if some of the details are out. Rated teen for the themes (although the warning given should reveal that!) and some bad language.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>No one thought to tell him. Why would they? A couple of furtive, back alley fumbles no one knew about and a single stake out - it doesn’t mean anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Word gets around, though. Someone mentions it while he’s getting coffee, only they don’t say the name - just a constable, caught in the crossfire. Most of the Nero gang have been taken out too, so their voices are - not jovial, of course not. But there’s a lightness. A feeling that sacrifices were made, that this constable - he’s a hero. He stirs in sugar while he asks who it was, not sure he really cares. Hero is another word for idiot, in his book. Dead is dead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“DC Fancy. Some kid from CID; George, I think.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He feels like throwing up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit,” he manages to force out. “He was pretty young.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s enough - not quite sympathy, but no one expects that from him. They’d freeze if they saw the wateriness suddenly obscuring his vision, and he turns away to put the milk back in the fridge with hands that almost shake. Shit.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He can’t. He can’t react like this. It might be okay for that pretty WPC who liked to think she could string him along wherever she wanted - and she could, mores the pity, he was young enough to still be chasing that wife and two kids dream despite what he got up to round the back of the Rose and Crown. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s not even sure why he </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants</span>
  </em>
  <span> to - why there’s a lump in his throat and his chest feels tight - they weren’t anything and he doesn’t even know the kid, not really. Just how he burned for it, pulled Ronnie’s hands exactly where he wanted them before disappearing into the night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He abandons the coffee and locks himself in a toilet cubicle. He doesn’t cry. He just stands, staring at those hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows he’s not a good guy. He doesn’t think there really are any good guys - not really, not when you get right down into the meat of a person. Morse acts all high and mighty but he’d turn as quick as the rest of them if pushed the right way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So no. He’s not a good guy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s a good copper though. There are those who call him bent, but he always figured - it's his due. His worth. He slogs through long days and puts away scum, and at the end of it, he comes out with a pay packet and a little something extra on the side to make up for the odd hours and the times you end up facing the wrong end of a knife. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But this. None of this is what he thought it was, and he’s deeper in it than he ever meant to be. He might have more than mud on his hands, some of that mess might be blood, and worse, it might be from people who don’t deserve it. He thinks - he thinks maybe - maybe Jago had something to do with George. Was it coincidence? Or had he seen them? Had he watched them, those hurried, half-hidden encounters and then later George walked into that room of gangsters, and - was Jago there? Did he think - you. I know you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If it was… he basically put that bullet in George himself. He dragged him into all this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can hear Thursday calling his name. Calling him Ronnie, which is strange, he thought they were fighting. It’s bloody cold out here too, except for his front - that’s warm, and oddly wet. He might just… he might just take a quick rest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shot Jago. He thought they were friends but he shot him because it was a do or die situation and he thinks Jago killed George. He might have killed Jago - but Thursday and Morse don’t seem too concerned, so maybe he missed. They’re gathering around </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>, for some reason, which is doubly weird because Morse hates him and he’s fine with that because he hates Morse, but that doesn’t explain why he’s looking at him now, white as a sheet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh right. He doesn’t like blood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks down at the warm wet on his front. It’s very red. He’s very tired. Maybe it’s him making Morse woozy. He hopes he buggers off, because if he keels over Thursday is going to go look after him and - it’s stupid, but he kind of wants Thursday to stay where he is. At his side. It’s very cold on this floor and he’s warm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ronnie-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s done a lot wrong in his life. Not a lot right. Even this - he might have saved them, but he might have killed a man. It’ll be an inquiry for sure, no brushing this under a carpet. Not with bloody Morse standing there as witness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ronnie, stay-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s getting dark. That’s odd too. It was morning. How long have they been here? Or maybe - maybe he just closed his eyes?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ronnie, the ambulance-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Who needs an ambulance? Oh, maybe Morse has gone over. He can’t hear him any more. At least they found that doctor friend of his. He can patch him up and make eyes at him until he stops wobbling. Maybe Morse’ll even notice this time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He might take a little nap. It’s not the time, but he’s exhausted. Maybe when he wakes up someone will have cranked up the radiators too - the station has never been so arctic. And a strange pressure in the air is turning down the voices of the world until they’re whispers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swallows in the silence. His ears. They need to pop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can’t feel the wet any more. Just heaviness. It drags him down. Maybe it’ll be better there. Better if he just… lets go...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ronnie?!”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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